Is This A Better World? Alternate Ending
by treesofsilverleaves
Summary: Oneshot, set during A Better World. The story of Lucy Smith, just one person out of the many that live on this tiny planet. (Alternate Ending, obviously.) Rewritten.


It was not often that Batman personally reviewed the criminal record of a civilian, but this was a special case. This particular young woman had, up until two years ago, been known for her peculiar kindness, her willingness to always help someone in need. She'd been an activist for several charities, championed several causes. He'd even known her as Bruce Wayne, as she attended several of his charity galas in order to pull a few more dollars out of the pockets of the rich.

After the rise of the Justice Lords, however, she seemed to have changed. The young woman had regularly attended marches and took part in riots and spoke out of turn and insulted the Lords. She wrote article after article calling the Justice Lords dictators and mourning the end of personal freedom. She called the world their empire and said that it would fall like all empires eventually do.

Recently, she had been arrested in Gotham after a protest, which was why Batman was reviewing her record now. He had to decide what to do with her, what course of action was best to take. She had a loud voice, and was a champion in the eyes of rebels. Perhaps he could sway her to their side, show her that the world was better this way.

Batman gathered up his files, stepped into the Batmobile, and left for Blackgate Penitentiary.

"Lucy Smith."

Batman stiffened. Damn it, _he _had gotten there first. While Batman trusted Superman far more than he trusted anyone else, the Kryptonian was not someone he would trust when dealing with criminals, especially when they challenged the new regime. Smith was in big trouble, and against all sanity, she seemed to be prepared to make it worse.

"That's my name, don't wear it out," she snarked.

"Do you know why you're here?" It seemed that for the moment he was calm.

"I dunno, actually," Smith said flippantly. "It seems the police have a problem with free speech nowadays."

"The police have a problem with you breaking the _law_."

"All the same thing lately, isn't it? Tell me, which _laws_ exactly have I broken?"

"Disturbing the peace."

"Well ain't that all fine and dandy," Smith laughed. Batman almost winced. _Winced_. The laugh was shattered, bitter, unlike anything he'd ever heard before. "You think that's peace, out there?"

"What else would you call it?" Superman challenged darkly. Smith took up the challenge without missing a beat.

"Fear."

"Fear is the reason we have peace."

"Fear and peace aren't the same thing, Superdoll," she said. "Why do you think there are so many riots? Some people get scared, others just get angry. But nobody's happy."

"What does it matter that nobody's happy? They're safe."

"What does it matter? What does it _matter_?" Smith laughed again, this time harder and longer.

"You think this is funny?" Superman growled, and Batman knew that if he could see, he would see eyes flashing red.

"Yes, I do," she laughed. "Because you're hopeless."

"Excuse me?" Superman's voice was tense in anger, and lasers shot from his eyes, just missing her. It was a warning.

"You heard me," she said, finally sobering up. "Honey, you are _hopeless_."

"And how am I hopeless?" he growled at her, obviously straining to refrain from crushing her.

"You've taken away our freedom for your so-called peace. You don't care that no one's happy. Well, when nobody's happy, what's the point of living? Nothing, except fighting to be happy again. So guess what, hot-shot? _You're just building up to another war_."

Superman breathed roughly at the woman's last statement. _You're just building up to another war._ "Stop," he ordered, but when she heard that she plowed ahead, knowing that she was getting to him.

"Who in this world actually approves of what you're doing? Who actually, legitimately believes that this is the only way? Who's not following you out of fear?

"Who taught you that fear is the only way? That freedom just gets in the way? Who raised you to become a dictator? Who would be _proud_?"

Despite his best efforts, the words wiggled through his armor and stabbed at Batman's heart. _Would his parents be proud?_ He brushed the thought away. Superman was speaking again.

"Stop!" he ordered once more, rougher, louder. Batman could almost see the wheels turning in his head. He was becoming very, very angry. Smith just might die in her endeavor, whatever it was.

"No!" the woman screamed. "I will not stop! This isn't right, this isn't just, this isn't _humane_, goddamn it! You're not Superman anymore. You're just another Lex Luthor. You vied for power, and now you've received it, but at what cost? Another Flash dead? Because the Flash wouldn't be proud of this! He would fight against it, just like I am, even though I know you will try to find some way to take everything away from me. But you can't. Because it's already gone.

"It's already gone."

With that, Batman backed away and stood outside the door. As predicted, there was a flash of light, and Superman stalked out. The caped crusader did not stop him. He watched.

Months later, a Flash from a different dimension observed the woman who was sitting on a bench outside of Arkham Asylum, her back to him. She seemed to be calmly writing something into a large notebook. Every few seconds, she would twitch, as if fighting off some trance, but her handwriting never strayed.

Flash's eyes narrowed. She seemed . . . familiar, somehow. As if sensing his presence, the woman slowly closed her notebook and stood up. Her head turned so that he might have seen her profile had her curly hair not fluffed out to cover it. She took a deep breath, shoulders heaving, before she sluggishly rotated until she was facing him – but her head was down.

Flash fought the urge to face-palm in frustration. This whole mission, with the Justice Lords and his alter-self being dead, was already weird, but this was becoming maddening.

Finally the curly-headed woman looked up, and Flash's jaw dropped. Damn right she was familiar – he should know his own best friend. But this wasn't his best friend.

No, it wasn't, and he would do well to remember that. She looked like his best friend, this dimension's Lucy Smith, but the fire in her blue eyes was gone, any spark of life clouded over, her usually fair skin pale. And the worst – there were two collinear dots on her forehead, almost like beauty marks or moles, but they seemed more like scars than anything.

Still twitching, alternate-Lucy slowly made her way towards him, stopped, and looked up to meet his eyes. "Hello," she murmured in a welcome manner. "Do you need any help?"

Flash almost wanted to cry. This really _wasn't_ his best friend, his Lucy. He felt like his heart was breaking, seeing her like this. "Lucy, it's me, Flash – it's Wally, Luce, I'm Wally. Don't you recognize me?" he insisted desperately.

"Why do you call yourself Flash? The Flash died nearly three years ago," she stated passively. Yet something danced across her face, some sort of emotion.

She twitched again, but this time it was more like a jerk, and her eyes cleared for a second while she punched him in the shoulder, and he laughed, almost relieved, but it was over before he could really feel any better. She was gone; she was really and truly gone.

Alternate-Lucy wandered off, and Flash was left alone. Standing in front of a clean Arkham, with calm inmates, watching a girl that looked like his best friend but had experienced some tremendously horrible things walk away from him, the Flash felt worse than ever. He just wanted to go home.

"Wallace Rudolph West, do you take Lucy Allison Smith to be your lawfully wedded wife?"

The urge to face-palm was there again. The full name, really? "I do."

"And do you, Lucy Allison Smith, take Wallace Rudolph West as your lawfully wedded husband."

"Of course."

There it was. The fire in her eyes. The burning smile on her lips. She wasn't perfect, but she was perfect for him. And it took a near-traumatizing trip to another dimension for him to realize that.

Then, as he had many times over the years, including after seeing the alternate-Lucy, he made a vow that he would never let anything happen to his best friend, girlfriend, and now wife.

"You may now kiss the bride."

And Wally West, AKA the Flash, did just that. But he would never forget the broken, defeated, lifeless eyes of the alternate-Lucy, and he once more vowed he would never let anything like that happen to the love of his life. He kissed her again.

(If she knew what he was thinking she would hit him because "I can take care of myself, Wallace!")


End file.
